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The End Has Not Yet Passed Over Us

ISSUE:  Fall 2014


That God first placed an angel
       with a flaming sword to guard
Eden’s closed gates, that He gave us
       signs to declare a different logic,
but when the horse of death rode through town

it could not stop for me who invited it,
       who reached out my hand to feel
my fingers course through its wet mane.
       That pleasure’s excess could poison,
that we could be punished even further—

I knew. Snow falls. Termites eat out
       the tree’s giant heart. I wish
I’d promised to stay changeless
       had I been changed. I wish the geranium
back to bloom, the fire back to the candles

the children carried through the orchard
       the night I watched the woman
flatten the snake with her foot
       just to see how much blood it held.
I’ve been careless, yes, and spared,

and it had nothing to do with God. All
       eventually comes to light—the horse
found stiff in a field and snow-filled; the angel
       in the hangar with lesions across his cheek,
his sword drawn low, no longer defined by fire.




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Rebecca Cook's picture
Rebecca Cook · 9 years ago

I love this poem! I just subscribed to the journal (online editions). I am so glad you wrote this and jealous that I did not. You are dealing with themes that I am dealing with in a collection I'm working on. Kudos!


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